


Undercurrent

by opalheart12



Series: Undercurrent [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, F/M, Hogwarts Founders Era, M/M, Salazar and Godric are briefly a thing, The Founders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2019-10-22 10:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17660627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalheart12/pseuds/opalheart12
Summary: Salazar Slytherin is an orphaned young wizard wandering the Mediterranean world until he ends up in England. There he meets three people who will change both his life and the wizarding world forever. This is the story of the creation of a new family, the founding of Hogwarts, and all the moments in between.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> One day I created a headcanon on Twitter for the origin story of Salazar Slytherin. From there, I decided to make a fanfiction about both Salazar and the founding of Hogwarts. You can read the thread here (https://twitter.com/TheLady_Artemis/status/1044668339807813632) and I will be making just a few small changes as I actually turn my thread into a story. I hope you all enjoy it.

_ London, England  _

_ 985 AD _

 

Pain was an emotion he was all too familiar with. It burned him from the inside out, from the time his eyes opened to the moment they closed. The time in between offered him no rest. He often heard his parents’ screams in his ears and saw them take their last breaths at his feet, eyes reflecting anger, confusion, and surprise. Part of him wished to sleep and never wake or to sleep and never dream if dying was not possible for him. But how else was he to remember what his mother and father looked like? How else was he to remember their voices?

 

The only thing he could do was continue moving. Staying in one place for too long made him nervous. It would only be a matter of time before someone came to destroy his normalcy. It would not do to create bonds and connections that would only bring him pain when they were inevitably taken away from him. 

 

“Are you quite alright, sir?”

 

The man turned around and saw in front of him a man with skin the color of raw umber and eyes a shade of hazel so bright they were nearly golden. They were of even height, though the man was considerably wider than he was. His dark hair was cut close to his head, reminding him of the old statues of the Roman emperors he’d seen in his youth, though his full, dark beard was where the comparison ended. 

 

“I am fine. Why do you ask?” He replied, his thick accent heavy over his words.

 

Something in the other man’s eyes brightened and the man would swear his ears twitched. “I was walking behind you and you stopped rather suddenly. You were staring off into nothing. I thought perhaps you might be unwell.”

 

“I am merely considering where I might lay my head this evening is all. This city is unfamiliar to me.” His eyes traveled around the harbor furtively. There were too many people, too many possibilities for harm to come to him. He pulled his cloak tighter around him and his hand went to the wand in his waistband. The other man’s eyes did not miss the movement.

 

“You are like me,” he stated with curiosity in his eyes. 

 

“I am certain I do not understand what you mean, sir.” He could not reveal his true nature. Secrecy was protection. There were others like him in the world certainly, but he had never been so bold as to reveal his identity to a stranger in the street.

 

The other man pulled his cloak back slightly to reveal a wand in a holster at his side. “You are like me,” he repeated. “This city is not kind to those like us but I know of someone who would be happy to provide us shelter for the night.”

 

He felt distrustful. He always did. He allowed his mind to probe that of the other man’s and found himself sifting through very surface thoughts. 

 

_ You can trust me.  _

 

_ Let me help. _

 

_ I am just like you. _

 

The other man extended his hand to him. “Not many are able to use Legilimency on me. I am impressed.” He was smiling again, warm and genuine. “My name is Godric Gryffindor. I am most honored to meet you, sir. What might I call you?”

 

It felt as if several moments passed as he considered the man before him. Could he be trusted? Would this man put him in danger? 

 

A memory of his mother brushing his hair in her lap floated into his mind.  _ “We know no other way than to trust. It is in our nature. Whatever may happen in this world, you should never forget to trust yourself so that you may trust others.” _

 

He felt himself extending his hand to grasp Godric’s. For all the paranoia and distrust he carried with him since the day he lost his parents, he felt in his gut that Godric was an ally. 

 

“You may call me Salazar, sir. Salazar Slytherin.”


	2. The Dying Man's Dagger

_ Córdoba, Spain _

_ 971 AD _

 

The city scared him. It was beautiful, yes. Everyone knew that Còrdoba was the jewel of Al-Andalus. It was a bustling city with people of all origins and walks of life. That part, Salazar loved. What he did not love was how crowded it was. There were always too many people, too many opportunities for  _ something  _ to happen.

 

“Walk faster,  _ mijito _ . I do not want you to get lost in this crowd.” His mother commanded sternly as she tugged him to the outer edge of the crowd they were walking through. 

 

They were heading to the stall both she and his father had purchased to sell their goods. They sold wine imported from Rome by his father’s cousin. Salazar had been helping his parents sell in the market for as long as he could remember. When he’d been much younger (and much chubbier), people would stop by the stall to comment on how precious and adorable he was and find themselves purchasing one of the more expensive bottles of wine. 

 

Eventually, they arrived at their stall. His father, a tall man with dark olive skin, deep green eyes, and a head of curly hair the color of ink smiled when he saw them. “Teresa, _ mi corazón _ , how I missed you!” He took her hand and kissed it softly, smiling at the reluctant smile that had taken residence on her face.  

 

Teresa snatched her hand away playfully and nudged him as she passed him to begin setting out more of the wine bottles. “I just saw you last night, Sulayman. Have you only been pining away for us since you left home this morning?”

 

“As always,” Sulayman replied warmly. “Salazar, help me with the rest of these bottles.”

 

Salazar did as he was told. He no longer felt as afraid of the crowds moving between the stalls. His mother and father always ensured that he felt protected. They knew how prone to accidental magic he was when anxious.

 

It was a pleasantly warm day with a hint of chill in the air when the wind blew hard enough. The morning flew by as people flocked to their stall for wine. Salazar, still cute and small, lured in potential customers and played the role of a shy child hiding behind his mother’s legs. By the middle of the day, the Slytherin family had sold out of all the wine they had. Teresa was counting out all the profit they had made while Sulayman attempted to get her to smile at their day’s good fortune.

 

Salazar stared at them as he always did, with his head cocked to the side, wondering how two completely opposite people had managed to marry one another and be in love at the same time. His mind wandered to the other couples in the village he saw every day. Señora Ermesinda and Señor Vevián never showed any affection toward one another. In fact, Salazar was almost certain Ermesinda  _ hated  _ the man. Vevián never seemed to mind. He was always seen with some other poor naive girl from the next village over when Ermesinda was visiting with her sisters in Sevilla. 

 

He wasn’t sure he fully knew what love was. And for a child who had the uncanny ability to knowing almost everything, that bothered him. But whatever it was he was certain his parents had it. Sulayman only had eyes for Teresa and the entire village of Almalja knew it. He hoped that when he was older he would find someone he could look at like they put the sun in the sky themselves every morning. 

 

As dusk neared, they prepared for the journey back home. It wasn’t terribly far but after a long day of helping his parents in their stall, little Salazar was tired. He reached his arms up toward his father. “ _ Papá _ ,” He yawned as he tried to speak. “How long until we are home?”

 

Sulayman laughed deeply as he scooped Salazar up into his arms. “Soon, little one. If you close your eyes now, when you open them again we will be in front of the fire at home. Can you do that?” 

 

Salazar nodded sleepily and did as his father asked. 

 

The next time he woke up, he had just landed rather hard in the dirt and the sky was dark. He could hear a scuffle happening nearby and he turned to see what had happened. 

 

His father was standing in front of his mother who had been knocked to the ground. All the money they had earned was scattered in the dirt and the vase they’d carried it in was shattered. In front of his father stood an unfamiliar man with one of the sharpest daggers Salazar had ever seen.

 

“You will pay for your insolence,  _ sangre sucia _ . I will have your wife. I will have your money. And I will have both while the heads of you and your child sit above the fireplace of my home.” He growled darkly. 

 

There were only a few times in little Salazar’s very short life where he had ever felt genuine fear. The first time was when he was only four years old and had lost his mother in the market crowd. The second time was when he’d accidentally broke his mother’s favorite bowl. And now he was feeling true fear again for the third time in his life.

 

He began to cry as he stood up and ran in front of his father. “Leave them alone!” He screamed. 

 

The man looked at him as if he were nothing more than a fly buzzing around his head. “And how exactly do  _ you _ plan to stop me?”

 

Just then, Salazar caught sight of a copper asp snake slithering along the road behind the man. He looked from the man to the snake and back again.

 

_ Help me _ , he pleaded to the snake.  _ He means to harm me and my family _ .

 

The copper asp rose to full height and cocked its head curiously as it considered Salazar. It flicked its tongue out into the air to taste it and Salazar would have sworn for the rest of his life that the snake’s eyes  _ narrowed _ .

 

_ Please _ , Salazar begged.  _ Help me! _

 

The man had raised the dagger to slash at Sulayman’s throat when he collapsed to the ground, howling in agony. The snake leaped forward again, though this time its glistening fangs implanted themselves in the man’s side. When he had finally fallen on his back, the snake struck for a final time in the man’s jugular vein. 

 

_ As you command _ ,  _ Master _ . 

 

Before Salazar could say anything more, the snake disappeared into the grass on the side of the road. The man who had attacked Salazar and his family was seizing on the ground now and his muscles appeared to have cramped up rather painfully.

 

Teresa let out a terrified sob as the man lurched and groaned on the ground. Salazar stepped further away from him with tears in his eyes. He had never seen a man die before. If this was what it was like...it was positively terrifying. He hadn’t realized his tears spilled over until he felt his mother’s arms wrap around him as she scooped him up.

 

Sulayman bent down and searched the dying man’s pockets before pulling out a sack of gold and the dagger he’d wielded right out of his hands. Salazar saw his father press his foot into the man’s neck just before Teresa turned them both away from the sight.

 

It hardly mattered. Salazar heard his father’s words anyway.

 

“I will have your life,” Sulayman said. “I will have your money.

 

“Sulayman,  _ por favor _ ,  _ vamos a casa _ !” Teresa begged him. “Forget the dying man!”

 

But Sulayman ignored his wife’s pleading. He pressed his foot harder into the man’s throat. “I will have  _ both _ while this dagger with  _ your  _ dried blood on it sits above the fireplace of my home.” 

 

And then little Salazar heard a sickening squelching noise as his father plunged the dagger  _ somewhere  _ in the man’s body. The suffocating gurgling noise he heard made him think the dagger had found its home in the man’s throat. 

 

Sulayman wordlessly began to scoop up the money from the broken vase and fit as much of it as possible into the sack he’d taken from the man’s body. The rest he shoved into his pockets and boots. 

 

“ _ Now _ we may go home, Teresa.” 

 

His father had not lied to the dying man. Until the day Almalja was raided and attacked, the dying man’s dagger hung on top of the fireplace in the Slytherin home with his poisoned blood dried on it.


End file.
